Pen to Paper
by dollyrot
Summary: An assignment of two schools brings together some of the most unlikely people. Involves Amy Dumas, Trish Stratus, Jackie Gayda, Maria Kanellis, CM Punk, Alex Shelley, Chris Jericho and many, many more.
1. Chapter 1

**Pen to Paper**

**Title:** Pen to Paper  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairings:** You'll see.**   
Summary:** An assignment of two schools brings together some of the most unlikely people.  
**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I don't own the WWE, TNA or any of the characters used. Wish I did, though, that would be awesome!  
**Note: **I've had this idea for a long time… it's only just come into fruition. The idea actually came from two books called **Finding Cassie Crazy** (which I definitely recommend) and **Feeling Sorry for Celia** (which I also recommend). Oh, and I'm pretty much going to focus on mainly three girls and three boys, but other people will get mentions – big and small – in this story.

**xxx**

The moment they walked into the classroom, they were hit for a six.

On the board was a message. A powerful one, at that. Because on that board, written in white chalk, in clear bold letters. It said: **_"Southport-Westfield Pen Pal Project"._** To backtrack a little, Southport Academy was the name of their school… their all-girls school. The aim of their school was to bring girls who were troubled – as in rebellious, rambunctious and wild – and send them out all dainty and pure. Needless to say, that had not happened. Some of the girls there could be quite horrible, but not as horrible as the boys at Westfield High. Their school was all-boys, naturally, so lots of idiotic things happened in there. Once someone had set their toilets on fire by lighting a piece of toilet paper, it was that simple. Another time, someone had flooded out their gym with the fire-hose. The snobby girls at Southport Academy thought the boys there were absolutely barbaric and couldn't stand them. So the thought of an actual pen pal project with them? Was terrible!

"That's right, girls," their teacher exclaimed excitedly, the moment she walked through the door. Her name was Miss Lisa Moretti, but she had earned the nickname - between a couple of students - of Miss Ivory due to her constantly wearing purple clothes. "I went to Headmistress McMahon with the idea and she loved it! So she contacted the principal of their school, who agreed to the idea almost immediately. My idea was, as you can tell by the blackboard, to have a little pen pal project between the two schools, because of the animosity between them. I'm hoping to overcome that hatred and form bonds of friendship between them. For this pen pal project, you will write letters to your pen pal and drop them into the mail box that will be positioned outside the Administration Office! And that, _that_ is your project for this year, girls! Inter and outer school co-operation! And yes, by outer-school, I mean you should try giving a meeting with your pen pal a go! Because, who knows, you might form a friendship with them!" She paused for a moment, taking a second to stare at her students… who all had stunned looks across their faces. She smirked a little. "And while your letters will remain confidential to yourselves, participation in this project is _essential_ if you want to pass."

Miss Moretti walked behind her desk and sat down. She gestured wildly at the class, basically telling them to 'get moving'. "Go on, start writing!" The entire class groaned in frustration, not only did most of them not want to do this, they were being _forced _to. What a lovely insight into the teacher's system. One of her students in the back row (the self-proclaimed "cool" row) clicked her pen and began writing almost immediately, her pen flying over the paper as she wrote up a storm.

_To the student at Westfield High,_

_One thing you should know about me is that popular. Like really popular. As in, I'm like one of those beautiful people you see on TV and everyone's jealous of them and they're like 'oh my god, I wish I looked like her' and you think 'well, you never will'? Yeah. Well, that's me. In short, every man wants to do me and every girl wants to **be** me._

_My name is at the bottom of the letter. If you are so brain-dead that you don't even notice that, then don't even bother replying. I won't waste my precious time on you, okay? Anyways, my best friend's name is Jillian Hall. She is part of my A-list group, too. She is beautiful, well… with the exception for… well, you will see with a photo I shall enclose! It's always good to have a photo on hand – you never know who you might run into on the street or at school, you never know what kinds of jobs and modeling deals you might land. For example, I'm gorgeous, I'm popular, I'm loved, and I'm on the A-list (as in, the Country Club? Yeah, I practically live there! It's for the really rich people only, so I wonder whether you've been there or not?) I'm the girl of everyone's dreams, and more._

_Yes, even yours. I bet after seeing my photo, you will put it under your pillow and hope the Tooth Fairy comes and delivers me. Don't worry, don't be embarrassed – you're not in the minority. Everyone does, you're not alone in that category._

_Currently, I am late for an appointment at the hairdressers' – just a touch-up to my already fabulous looks!! – so I better go. I don't want to turn out looking like Chrusty Hemmeroid over there. Ahh, who am I kidding? I never will!_

_Stay beautiful, _

_Melina Perez xox_

Melina Perez then folded her letter neatly, slipping it in an envelope and sealing it with a quick lick. She slid out of her seat and headed for the front of the classroom, where she could drop off her envelope (and of course, she grabbed her Louis Vuitton handbag on her way). She dropped it into the box on the teacher's desk. Miss Moretti had long since learned not to argue with Melina, especially when she was late for an appointment (Melina had "people", if you caught her drift… she'd found this out the hard way), and let her go without a fuss. Melina stepped out of the classroom, examining a chip in her nail polish, only half-noticing when Maria Kanellis dropped her pen right in front of her, causing her to nearly crush it under her high-heeled boot.

"Oops!" She giggled, picking it up again as Melina sent her a withering glare. It wasn't as though Maria was disliked, on the contrary – Maria was well-liked. She was cute, she was bubbly, and she was intelligent… most of the time. The girl had more embarrassing tongue slips than Trish Stratus had had men – and that was a lot – and was constantly making a fool of herself, sometimes by accident, sometimes on purpose. She was a dreamer, she got distracted easily. Today she was determined not to, she really wanted to finish her letter. She picked up her pen and began to write again, her tongue poking out of her mouth in concentration.

_Dear person at Westfield High,_

_Hi! My name is Maria Kanellis. I'm 16. _

_The blackboard says to **describe** ourselves, but I don't know how to describe me. I'm just Maria, you know? I'm just myself. I'm sure if you asked other people here they'd gladly offer you with an opinion about me… 'blonde', 'ditzy' and 'dumb' being amongst them. A lot of the time people call me that… 'cause I can be such an idiot at times. It's kinda mean, getting insulted for being yourself. If people don't like who you are, then who can you be? A fake? A clone? Another Melina? No thanks. I'm fine just being me, idiotic comments and all. (It provides people with laughter, that's a good thing, right? RIGHT??) I'm a girl who is a gossip queen (I just love getting the dirty), likes movies, cars and whose best friend's name is Mickie._

_Hahaha… I guess that, in a way, I just described myself. Why don't you do the same and tell me a little about yourself? I'd love to hear it. _

_Love Maria _

Maria smiled sweetly to herself, reading it over. It was good enough for now. On the other side of the class room, two girls were showing each other their letters. Maria watched intently as Amy Dumas and Jackie Gayda traded pieces of paper and read the other one's page, before getting distracted by a bird flying around outside. Amy scanned Jackie's first.

_Hey you! You, other there! Yeah, I'm talkin' to you… the Westfield kid. It's nice to meet you. We don't have much interaction with your school, so it is pretty cool to finally have some. So. While we're on the subject of 'interaction', my name is Jacquelyn Suzanne Gayda. But you can just call me Jackie, okay? Good. Now, let's get down to business and spill all the nitty-gritty details you probably don't want to. I love writing, as you can hopefully tell. I'd like to be a journalist when I'm older. I love running; it's a very therapeutic thing for me, just like writing. Favourite shows include wrestling & Family Guy, as for bands… well; you can't go wrong with Poison & Creed. Colours I like are pink, blue and yellow. In fact, that can be confirmed by one of my friends, Rico, who goes to your school. _

_Most people think he's freaky, 'coz he's so eccentric and flamboyant, but once you get to know him, he's the sweetest guy ever. He likes to design clothes for me – once I wore an outfit of his to school and got suspended for a day because of it! They said it was 'inappropriate' but I reckon that's just 'coz that day I got more smacks on the butt than they did their entire lives! So yeah. Go talk to him, he won't bite (much!). Guess that's all I've got to say. Write back though, 'coz I'm dying to know who I get as my pen-pal! _

_Love always & all ways, Jackie xxx_

Amy laughed, she knew Rico herself, having been introduced to him by Jackie and though he was a riot. Post their meeting, she now liked officially liked the colour pink and thought that colours such as turquoise, as well as shades of green and blue, were perfectly suited for her skin tone. It was absolutely amazing what this boy could do for people. When Jackie had first started out at Southport, she'd just been your average teenager. Dirty-blonde hair, no makeup, boring clothes. Then she'd met Rico and she had been transformed. Wavy blonde locks, with occasional pink and blue streaks in, makeup and crazy clothes. It was… awe-inspiring. He took her from nothing and made her something.

"That's great, Jacks." Jackie grinned widely, pausing in the midst of taking her letter back from her friend and slipping it into an envelope of her own. "You think?" Amy simply sent her a withering look. "I _know._" Jackie then laughed too, and finished off her business of putting it away. That was when Amy passed her own letter for her to read. It was short and sweet.

_Guess what? The only reason I'm writing this is because I'm forced to (I don't want to fail English) and **NOT** because I'm jumping up and down like a spaz to meet you. So don't flatter yourself, buddy._

_Catch ya, Amy. _

"What insight." Jackie smirked. "I know, eh," A devilish grin crossed Amy's exotic features as she too put hers in an envelope. Then, together they stood, striding to the front of the classroom to drop theirs in the box.

Little did they know, even writing them would cause chaos…


	2. Chapter 2

**Pen to Paper**

**Title:** Pen to Paper  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairings:** You'll see.**  
Summary:** An assignment of two schools brings together some of the most unlikely people.  
**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I don't own the WWE or any of the characters used. Wish I did, though, that would be awesome!  
**Note: **I've had this idea for a long time… it's only just come into fruition. The idea actually came from two books called **Finding Cassie Crazy** (which I definitely recommend) and **Feeling Sorry for Celia** (which I also recommend). Oh, and I'm pretty much going to focus on mainly three girls and three boys, but other people will get mentions – big and small – in this story.

**xxx**

The next time they walked into the classroom, they'd received replies.

A box was set up on Miss Moretti's desk again, only this time, what was inside? Were envelopes addressed to _them_ **from** Westfield High. Giggling to themselves, the girls walked up to their teacher's desk, one-by-one, hunted around in the box and discovered their very own letter. Jackie unfolded her letter as soon as she sat down in her desk, eyes locked onto what was written.

It was from a boy named "Alex Shelley".

_Hey babe,_

_My name is Alex Shelley, if you're unable to read it at the bottom of this letter. (Insert a flirtatious line here where I say 'remember it now, because you'll be screaming it later?' Heh.) Just call me Alex, or 'lex… everyone else does. _

_Interests, eh? Well, here's a few: __Art, __music, __talking, __cut-up__ black t-__shirts__ and __leather__ jackets – rock and roll, baby, I frigging love it! Something else I frigging love is photography – whether it's digital cameras or video cameras… chuck me one and I'll be in heaven. Me and my buddy Kevin Nash are like crimebusters, sometimes we accidentally stumble upon things (like, one time we caught this kid cheating on his girlfriend on tape. So we showed it to her. Funny times. Involved the words "you bastard!" and maybe a slap or two.)_

_While we're on the subject of nicknames, it's funny how you mention your buddy Rico there… yeah, I know him. Everyone does. He's kind of unforgettable. He creeps me the hell out. For some fucked up – excuse the swearing, but that's what he does to me – reason, he calls me 'Alexis' (don't ask me why, because I have no clue. Alex isn't short for that or anything). He's constantly pinching my butt, and one time? He stole my PE uniform and tie-dyed it pink and purple? _

_**WHAT'S WORSE?** _

_I actually had to wear it!_

_Boy, did the fellas in gym rag on me for that one. Thanks for that one, Rico!_

_So you can see I'm not too fond of him. I don't understand how you can manage him, different tastes I guess. Eclectic tastes, at that. _

_Speaking of which, I've actually seen what you look like before. There was this one time, where Rico had a bunch of photos in class, right? And one guy stole them just to be mean. They wanted Rico to blow his top, go crazy – be a total psycho... underneath all that glitter. But then they actually **looked** at the photos, saw you and were quite thankful that they'd stolen them. _

_Yours sincerely,_

_Alex Shelley_

Jackie was already drafting a response in her head. A short, but cheeky one.

_Hey Alex?  
You never mentioned if you were one of those guys._

_- J.G_

"How very flirty," Amy commented dryly as she read Jackie's carefully crafted response (from over her shoulder) when she wrote it out on paper. The blonde girl smiled wanly, noticing a sheaf of crumpled piece of paper and a ripped envelope in Amy's hand. "Oh, what does yours say?" She tugged it out of her friend's clenched fist.

_Hey private school slag,_

_Fuck off and die._

_I put your letter through an incinerator. Write to me again? The same thing will happen to you._

_Love, Chris Jericho._

_xoxo_

"I'm not replying," was all Amy said as Jackie folded it up and handed it back to her. But Jackie knew she would – she could tell the redhead would attempt to get the last word, she always tried to whenever she got into fights with anyone (Trish Stratus could first-hand tell you that).

And predictably, Amy did. Her response was just as "childish" as her first.

_Hey buddy, I don't seem to have come in contact with any incinerators lately. Try again._

Amy smirked as she slipped it into an envelope and dropped it into the box at the front of the classroom, only imagining what the boy would reply with. Maybe some more threats? She didn't know, but the game was fun – she was enjoying it immensely. She'd continue playing it as long as she could.

Across the classroom, Maria was reading her letter.

_I'm CM Punk._

_Don't bother asking what the CM stands for; chances are you won't find out._

_I don't drink. I don't smoke. I don't do drugs… I'm straight-edge. That likely makes me better than you. _

_I actually have (yeah. Illegal. Shut up. You snitch and I'll hurt you.) a lot of tattoos, hair that I dye too often, and plenty of piercings. And all you're gonna get, babe, is who I am._

She stared at it for awhile, a little confused about what to write next. He both interested her and freaked her out at the same time. Her friend Mickie noticed her difficulty in writing back a response, and looked over from her table beside her. "Ri… what's wrong?" The so-called 'ditz' passed her the letter she'd received from a one 'CM Punk'. Mickie read it quickly with succession, then looked Maria directly in the eye.

"Meet him."

"No way!"

"Scared?"

"…no."

"Aw, poor Maria is scared of Mister Punk." Mickie teased, poking her tongue out at her friend.

"I am NOT!"

"So," Mickie shrugged her shoulders as she turned back to her own letter, scribbling something down on a piece of paper as she talked. "Go and meet him. See what the hell his deal is."

Maria looked back down at her letter for a moment. Words like 'don't bother', 'better than you', 'shut up' and 'I'll hurt you' stood out to her, swimming before her very own eyes. She was piqued by curiosity, and overcome by not wanting to back down from the challenge handed to her by her best friend.

"Fine, I will!"

Then she started to write a response.

**xxx**

It's really short, I know, I just wanted to get up the guys' responses. Longer chapter next time for sure… I have lots of ideas planned for the characters (especially Maria and Punk), so stay tuned!


	3. Chapter 3

**Pen to Paper**

**Title:** Pen to Paper  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairings:** You'll see.**  
Summary:** An assignment of two schools brings together some of the most unlikely people.  
**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I don't own the WWE or any of the characters used. Wish I did, though, that would be awesome!  
**Note: **I've had this idea for a long time… it's only just come into fruition. The idea actually came from two books called **Finding Cassie Crazy** (which I definitely recommend) and **Feeling Sorry for Celia** (which I also recommend). Oh, and I'm pretty much going to focus on mainly three girls and three boys, but other people will get mentions – big and small – in this story.

**xxx**

He'd agreed to the meeting, but on one condition – make it short and sweet, _don't_ waste his time.

So she'd written back with a time and a date and a place, adding at the bottom as a post-script: "I'll be wearing something rainbow." Just so she stood out.

That's what she had told him. He walked into the cosy little café they'd arranged to meet at. The door tinkled annoyingly as he entered the building. He paused in his tracks, his eyes scanning the room, searching over the numerous tables – each of them packed to the brim with teenagers. He wondered who was the girl he was meeting. The boy sincerely hoped that the one sitting alone in the corner – thick-brimmed glasses, braces covering her mouth, freckles, red hair and braids ('_Talk about owned at birth,_' he thought, '_Someone up there must've hated her._') completing her overall look – wasn't her, but then realized she wasn't wearing anything 'rainbow'. He continued looking until something caught him off-guard. A girl waved.

Their eyes met. The straight-edged one drank in every little detail of her – the way her light brunette locks fell just past her shoulders, the way two hazel eyes eagerly peeked out, the overly excited expression of her face. Rolling his eyes slightly, Punk made his way over to her booth, sliding into the side opposite her.

She didn't say anything at first, instead signaling to a waitress nearby. The gum-cracking woman pulled out a notepad from her apron and a pencil from behind her ear. "Yeah, what'll it be?" She had a twangy, slightly Southern accent. How cliché.

"Mocha latte, please."

The waitress wrote down her order, and then turned to him. "And you?"

He just glared at her (which made her storm off in a huff), then glared at the girl across from him, letting his gaze pointedly fall towards his watch. She shrugged in a don't-carish kind of way, folding her hands on the table.

"So." She smiled at him. He found himself suddenly distracted from issues regarding time. "You've got to be CM Punk."

He raised his eyebrows slightly. "Aren't you the smart one?"

She paid no heed to his sarcasm, barreling onwards. "I'm Maria!" (A snort came from his side of the table. "No shit!") "And it's so cool that you agree to meet me here. I mean, it's only been one letter but I had to see who the guy threatening me behind a pen and a piece of paper was."

Punk smirked smugly as he remembered writing that letter, his classmates standing around him and egging him on. Ah, memories. "Is that all babe? I've got better things to do, is all."

"NO!"

She interrupted, cutting him off at the pass. "Um," 'Maria' paused, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "Why do you hate me?"

The waitress now returned with her order, setting it carefully on the table. She made sure of no eye contact whatsoever with Punk before exiting again. Maria sipped tentatively at her drink.

He inclined his head. "Is that what you think? God, you're stupider than I thought."

"… and you wonder _why_ I think that?"

Her words were defiant. He propped his cheek on his hand, lazily glancing at her as he ran his tongue over the stud in his lip. "I told you you're only gonna get who I am."

"Well, you're… MEAN." It was blunt.

"Wah," Punk retorted. "And you're the perfect example of why I dislike all girls."

Ouch, that must've stung because she looked as though she'd been slapped in the face. Still, she recovered. "Scared we've got cooties?"

He chuckled. "Cute. You're a cute one, I'll give you that. But you're also –"

"Let me take you out." She hadn't meant to say that. It had just blurted out, and now the words were hanging there in the air and she couldn't take them back. She couldn't stuff them back inside her mouth where they belonged, safely hidden. He looked as shocked as she felt.

"I'm sorry, what?"

The words wouldn't stop coming.

"I'll prove you wrong."

The both of them sat in silence for a few minutes, before he responded:

"Okay."

"Really? That's so –"

"Don't push it sweetheart. It'll only be a one time thing."

Then he got up and walked out of the café, making a point to nudge the gum-chewing waitress from before as he did so, leaving Maria sitting all by herself with her three-quarters full mocha latte.

The waitress looked from the closing door, to Maria's table, and said:

"That boy's trouble."

_That boy's trouble._

But she didn't care.


	4. Chapter 4

Pen to Paper

**Pen to Paper**

**Title:** Pen to Paper  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairings:** You'll see.**  
Summary:** An assignment of two schools brings together some of the most unlikely people.  
**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I don't own the WWE or any of the characters used. Wish I did, though, that would be awesome!  
**Note: **I've had this idea for a long time… it's only just come into fruition. The idea actually came from two books called **Finding Cassie Crazy** (which I definitely recommend) and **Feeling Sorry for Celia** (which I also recommend). Oh, and I'm pretty much going to focus on mainly three girls and three boys, but other people will get mentions – big and small – in this story. I tried to make this longer to make up for my lack of updates, hehe.

**xxx**

Maria didn't appear to be having much luck with her pen pal. Amy wasn't either. She had found herself engaged and locked in a fierce battle of bitter words her pen pal, this Chris Jericho person. He'd snapped back to her last letter with a jaunty reply:

_You're demented in the head. You must be one of those chicks who, despite getting told she's hated by a guy, moons around them like some deranged bitch. There are people who can help you with your problems, sweetie._

_xo_

To which she replied:

_You must be one of those guys who are so insecure about himself; he picks on other's faults to make himself feel better. Wow, you must have a big ego!_

_I don't have problems. I lead a normal life. I'm your average redheaded spitfire (you know that cliché, right?), with a best friend named Jackie. She's writing to a guy at your school called Alex. I'm unique in that I'm tattooed: a three-eyed dragon tattoo on my shoulder, PUNK on my inner lip and 'iconoclast' on the nape of my neck. It's Russian for rebel. They each say something about me. Obviously. I have my ears, belly and tongue pierced. And I don't take crap from nobody, particularly you._

_With love,  
Amy_

His reply came quickly.

_Why don't you ask people who I am? Then find out what I do to people I don't like._

Amy, being a smartass, enlisted the help of her best friend for this task. One lunch time, the two of them had trekked their school grounds, accosting anyone and everyone who passed them, questioning them as to whether or whether not they knew a 'Chris Jericho from Westfield High'. Some girls knew him, and had answered her question with a wide smirk. Once Amy felt the question had been thoroughly canvassed, she returned to her pen and paper with answers.

_Well, I asked around. My favourite answer came from Trish Stratus. She said you're a good fuck. And that maybe you abstain from sex with people you don't like._

_But how are you? You didn't give much away in your letter. I'm good. Thanks for asking! I really feel like we're developing a rapport here. We could be besties someday, I think. I spent the weekend with Jackie, and we went down to the beach by train. We sat on a blanket, curling our toes into the sand, and ate fish and chips. She brought a couple of raspberry Vodka Cruisers with her to wash it down with. What a sweetheart. It was all very pleasant, so I hope your weekend was just as good. Jackie wouldn't shut up about her pen pal though. Name's Alex or something. She absolutely adores him; thinks he's the funniest thing to walk this planet._

_At least she's got a good pen pal. I still don't know anything about you, except for the fact your name is Chris Jericho, and apparently you're famous around these parts for riding girls like jockeys ride horses. Which is actually quite interesting to note, truth be told. You must be good. Trish beds about two people daily._

Amy slipped the letter into an envelope; licking it before sealing it shut.

"Ready Jacks?"

Jackie stood up from her chair, slinging her backpack over her shoulder as she did so.

"Sure am!"

The two girls made their way out of the school, as it was the end of the day, and classes were finishing up. Before they could start the walk home, Amy had to deliver her letter. Thankfully, there was a post box near their school. She dropped the letter through the slot, and the girls continued on their way home. Things were quiet between them, both of them being lost in their own thoughts and enjoying the silence, until Jackie – the athlete in her coming out – challenged Amy.

"Race ya!"

Jackie grinned at her redhead friend, taking off down the street. Amy's mouth widened.

"Hey, you got a head start, cheater!"

She started running. Jackie's head start worked well for her, as she rounded the corner a good ten seconds before Amy did. Amy heard an "ow!" and the sound of something hitting the ground. When she finally rounded the corner, she saw her blonde friend sprawled on the concrete, bag beside her… but she wasn't alone. A tall blonde boy ('_A student from Westfield,_' Amy noted, her eyes running over his uniform) had clearly been knocked down too, the way his friends were laughing at him. His bag had been knocked off his shoulders too, only his apparently had not been zipped up the way Jackie's had been, as there were numerous objects belonging to him littering the ground.

Amy lent a hand to Jackie, helping her back up to her feet and replacing her bag on her back. She narrowed her eyes at the blonde boy standing before them. He appeared to be around their age.

"Why don't you watch where you're going, jackass? We don't have time to be wasting on people like you."

The blonde boy raised his eyebrows, one hand raised to the stubble on his chin.

"People like me?"

Amy made a show of slow clapping.

"People like you aren't worth anything. You smoke, you drink, you sleep around, you screw over your grades for your reputation, and you are a jock. Quite the stereotype, don't you think?''

She put a hand on her hips, balancing her weight on one foot. All of the blonde boy's friends gaped at her, especially the blonde boy. He blinked several times. Jackie stifled a laugh.

''And please, darling, close your mouth,'' she added, pointing a purple polished nail at him.

He shook his head and held up his hands in a ''don't-shoot-me'' kind of gesture.

''How do you know all this shit about me?'' he asked, smirking. "Based on one run-in and all."

Amy couldn't stop herself; she snorted with laughter, and then grinned, motioning at the ground.

''Your bag is on the ground and all of its contests are everywhere, idiot. In case you didn't know, you have there a box of condoms, cigarettes, and a failed test, but you have a book about politics, which certainly means you aren't that much of an imbecile. You smell of liquor, I noticed this as soon as I arrived on the scene. Already drunk?' My my, you just left school." She carried on with smug victory in her voice. ''And by the way, you're wearing a jersey supporting your school's football team.''

Their eyes met briefly for a second, until a grin cracked on his features. ''I like you, Red. You've got some spunk.''

Amy tossed her red locks over her shoulder. "I know. Now can you pick up your shit and move out of the way so we can go home?"

The boys from Westfield complied, helping their friend to scramble his junk back into his bag. They then lined up so that the girls had easy access to the pathway and could carry on with their walk home.

"Thanks." Amy linked her arm through Jackie's. "Seeya, Westie kids."

The two girls continued on down the pathway. Back to where the boys were, they'd all huddled up into a group. The blonde boy was incredulous. "_Westie kids_?"

"Yeah, I think it's a play off our school's name. You know, Westfield?"

The blonde boy raised his name and smacked the boy who'd spoken up over the head. "Shut up Haas, you dolt, I realized that."

'Haas' shrugged a response. Blonde boy turned to the others. "Do any of you guys know who she is?" Their answer was a furious head-shaking no.

"Damn," he scuffed his toe on the pavement. "Well, I don't care what it takes; I'm going to find out."

"Why?" 'Haas' teased. "You wanna add her to your list of conquests?"

Blonde boy poked out his tongue, winking. "Something like that."

He turned his head back in the direction where the girls had gone – they were but a mere speck in the distance now.

_Red._


	5. Chapter 5

Pen to Paper

**Pen to Paper**

**Title:** Pen to Paper  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairings:** You'll see.**  
Summary:** An assignment of two schools brings together some of the most unlikely people.  
**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I don't own the WWE or any of the characters used. Wish I did, though, that would be awesome!  
**Note: **I've had this idea for a long time… it's only just come into fruition. The idea actually came from two books called **Finding Cassie Crazy** (which I definitely recommend) and **Feeling Sorry for Celia** (which I also recommend). Oh, and I'm pretty much going to focus on mainly three girls and three boys, but other people will get mentions – big and small – in this story. I tried to make this longer to make up for my lack of updates, hehe.

* * *

Thursday

Alex's next letter said more about him than his first. He appeared to be opening up a little more, but there was still something, Jackie could tell, that he wasn't saying. There was something blocking him from being 'him', from being real. And she was determined to find out what.

_Let's just say you're a good reason to be doing this dumb pen pal project. Though I wouldn't say I'm like everyone else – I'm not. We're all different. In addition to the person I mentioned last time, Kevin, I get along best with someone called Chris Sabin. You probably wouldn't know him though. We have another person that makes up our quadruplet set, her name is – actually, you know what? Never mind. _

Jackie could see where he'd written a name, but scribbled it out furiously. He'd scribbled so hard on the piece of paper; there was an indent to the other side. Her brows furrowed in a knot as she stared down at the mess of a letter. What was the big deal? He'd written underneath the scribble, so she continued reading once more:

_I'm pretty sure I mentioned the video-taping thing? Kevin and Chris aren't in our media class, so a lot of the time it's just me and her. I'm kinda like Clark Kent. Geeky on the outside, Superman on the inside._

She smiled at his letter, it was cute. It spurred her to quickly pull out a piece of paper and a pen and begin her own response.

_If you're Superman, _she wrote, _does that mean you're going to rescue me? From the bimbo cheerleader types like Trish? Or maybe from latin lovers like my ex-boyfriend John? Or maybe from Amy tickling my feet? I have ticklish feet, by the way. I hate it when she does that. IT'S NOT FUNNY AMY!_

_Tell me about Kevin, tell me about Chris. Tell me about everything.  
I want to know all about you._

_Lots of love,  
Jackie_

* * *

Friday

"Amy!"

A voice called out to her. God, she didn't have time for this. She was running late for her next class as it was. The redhead turned around on the balls of her feet, only to find herself face to face with Trish Stratus. The two had a love-hate relationship. They'd begun as enemies, but over time, had learnt to respect each other. On the occasion, they fought, but each time, they threw down their still-loaded weapons, ready for the next time. Sometimes they were friends, sometimes they were enemies. Today, it seemed as though Amy was in the popular cheerleader's good books.

"Trish."

Trish was jogging down the hallway, a couple of school books under her arm. She caught up to Amy, and fell into step with her as she began walking again.

"So why did you want to know about Chris Jericho?"

Amy frowned. "He's my pen pal for that stupid project in Moretti's class."

Trish let out a low whistle, eyebrows raised high. "Wow," she breathed, "good luck with that."

"What do you –" The girl famous for her red locks started forming her question, but Trish cut her off mid-sentence, stopping in front of one of the classroom doors. "Oops! Gotta go, I have Chemistry now. Bye sweetie!"

As she disappeared inside, Amy was left in the empty hallway to contend with her own thoughts. What the hell?

* * *

Saturday

CM Punk had agreed to let Maria take him out somewhere. He didn't expect much from that stupid girl, but he had agreed to give her a second chance. He had allowed her the opportunity to prove him wrong. Letters had gone back and forth between them, mostly consisting of them making plans. What he'd gotten out of it was that she was going to be meeting him at his apartment, and that they'd go from there. Punk had moved out of home at a young age, and now lived with one of his friends, named Ace Steel. Ace was like a father figure to him, and the person he turned to for absolutely everything. He owed a lot to this man.

So now he was waiting at home. He'd showered, agonized over what to wear, and was now sitting on the dilapidated couch that they owned, in front of the second-hand television, flipping through the channels. Ace was home that day, and was in the kitchen, under the pretence of making himself a cup of coffee – but really, he just wanted to get an eyeful of the girl. Punk had told him about her: an ugly, ditsy, annoying girl from Southport he had to be pen pals with for a school project. The intercom had buzzed moments earlier, and they'd allowed her up. She would be here any second now. And behold, there was a light knocking on the door.

Maria stood outside. She could hear Punk on the inside, drawling lazily, "I'm not getting that." She could hear a second voice, his father perhaps, growling: "Answer the fuckin' door, Punk." A sound like a smack was heard, and a few seconds later, the door opened to reveal a very disgruntled looking CM Punk, rubbing his head angrily. He moved out of the way to allow her access inside, and then slammed the door behind him.

"Why'd you have to hit me, you jackass?" he stuck the finger up at Ace. Ace grinned, looking down at his cup of coffee as he stirred it with a spoon. "Don't act like you didn't deserve it." Punk just smirked. Maria just watched.

Ace looked up, finally, and saw her for the first time. Both of his eyebrows went up, way up. He hadn't really been expecting that, Punk's type was different. When he mentioned a girl coming over, he'd pictured tattoos, he'd pictured piercings, he'd pictured grunge. He hadn't pictured… well, beauty. He recalled Punk telling him her name was Kanellis, Maria Kanellis. She was clothed in a long, flowing white dress and a straw hat – something that you'd picture a girl wearing in one of those visions of a girl running through a field of flowers towards her lover. On anyone else it would've looked stupid; on Maria it just looked natural. It looked pretty.

He cleared his throat. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" Punk looked at her, as if just realizing she was still there, and narrowed his eyes. "She's not my friend."

"I'm Maria, it's nice to meet you." She smiled over at Ace. He made his way over to where both Punk and Maria were standing, and stuck out his hand. She shook it. "I'm Ace Steel. I'm Punk's friend, and," he leaned over to Punk and slung an arm around his shoulders. He sultrily licked him on the cheek, "his live-in lover."

Punk shoved him away, "Get the fuck off me, you fuckin' liar! I ain't gay!" Both Ace and Maria burst out laughing, and looked at each other.

"The first time I met him he told me he hated all girls."

Ace just grinned. "That doesn't surprise me."

Punk shot a dirty look at Maria, and folded his arms across his chest.

"I don't hate _all_ girls. Just you and girls _like_ you."

To his surprise, a smile broke out on Maria's face. "I'm going to change that." She slipped her arm through the crook of his. "Are you ready to go?"

"So, Kanellis, where are we going anyway?" He queried, as he shrugged her arm away from his (ew!), hoping it would be something cool like a concert.

"It's a surprise!"

When he wasn't looking, she mouthed one word to Ace with a twinkle in her eye: _carnival_.

Ace loved her.

* * *

**Read & review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Pen to Paper**

**Title:** Pen to Paper

**Rating:** PG

**Pairings:** You'll see.  
**  
Summary:** An assignment of two schools brings together some of the most unlikely people.

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I don't own the WWE or any of the characters used. Wish I did, though, that would be awesome!

**Note: **I just want to make it clear now that I am in no way a homophobe, and that I have homosexual friends. I don't know Punk's ideals on sexuality and other peoples' (so this may not necessarily reflect his true ideals), but for stories' sake, while he's not a homophobe himself - he's just a little uncomfortable with it.

* * *

"So, what do you think?"

She giggled, accepting a few bead necklaces from a male dressed as a joker whom passed them. She carelessly slipped the variety of coloured – purple, gold and green – beads around her neck and looked at him, head titled cutely to the side. Light glinted off of the metallic finish.

He groaned, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand. The one eye that was allowed visibility roamed his surroundings. The atmosphere was full of happiness and cheer. The sun shone down on a trailing street parade, which featured floats of all kinds and people dancing. It featured people throwing objects into the gathered crowds – candy, doubloons, hats, and more – around like they were invaluable. It featured people standing in the crowds, sharing bottles of champagnes and cans of beer… and _people clearly not caring about public displays of affection_, he thought as he uneasily eyed a couple kissing beside them. Hands were roaming in all kinds of places.

"Please don't tell me you just brought me to Mardi Gras."

"Fine, I won't tell you."

The playful tone in her voice was enough to make anyone moan in disgust. Maria noticed where he was looking and grinned. She reached out with a skinny arm and stole the flamboyantly coloured hat off of the male's head. He was too wrapped up in his companion to notice she'd taken it. Then, sneakily, she made the transfer to Punk's head. Almost immediately he went to remove it, but she cut him off.

"If you take that off your head, I swear to god I'm going to yell out to everyone in this vicinity that you're gay."

Mulling it over in his head quickly, Punk decided that was a risk he didn't want to take. Unfortunately admitting defeat, he sighed, letting his hands drop back to his side. Something he would regret, as a man wearing a blindingly pink outfit of some sort – _where_ did those strings go? And were those sequins? _Glitter_? – grabbed it seconds later.

"Well, hello there sailor!"

Jerking his hand away as though it had been burnt, Punk searched for an escape. Maria was standing beside him, stifling her laughter behind her hand. He quickly grabbed it, pulling it away from her face, and raised their linked hands.

"Sorry buddy," he apologized, trying to muster every ounce of sincerity into his tone of voice, eyes wide, "but I'm spoken for. This one gets violent when others come after me."

She just nodded, grinning madly.

The man in pink pouted. "That's too bad; you're a real cute one. Come find me if you ever change your mind sweetie!"

He flounced off. The pair gaped after him as he stopped in the middle of the crowd, and ground himself up against another man, this one scantily clad in purple and black. Punk wrinkled his nose at the sight, as another thought came to mind. He was still holding her hand. He dropped it as quick as he'd grabbed it.

"Don't fucking think a thing of it."

A chuckle reverberated from the depths of her throat. "Of course."

An awkward silence fell over them.

"So," he cleared his throat. "What exactly do we do at these kinds of erm… carnivals? Can't we just go home instead?"

Maria shook her head fiercely, brunette locks dancing from side to side from the movement. "No way!" She gripped his hand – again – tightly as she began fending her way through the crowd. "Come on, I'll show you what we do."

* * *

"I still cannot fucking believe I am_ here_ with _you, _Kanellis."

Punk grimaced as he walked out of the public toilet over to where Maria was standing, having just finished using it. Never again. He honestly should've known better than to walk into a public toilet on Mardi Gras.

"And why's that?"

During his absence, she'd somehow obtained a classic Mardi Gras mask and ditched her straw hat into her bag. The mask was in the official colours, the same that were on the bead necklaces she'd been given (something she'd felt her 'duty' to pass onto him. She'd strung them around his neck, once again threatening that she'd question his sexuality in front of everyone) earlier. Shaped in the same way that a butterfly is, it featured beads and sequins rimmed around the edges, and feathers sticking out of the sides. Her cat eyes gleamed from underneath. It was actually kind of pretty.

"My idea of fun is apparently very different from yours."

"Apparently so," she stepped forward as she spoke. He'd already rejected various ideas and plans during the day. She'd wanted cotton candy, he'd wanted nothing. She'd wanted to play a game, he'd wanted to stand by and mope. She'd wanted a little champagne to celebrate the occasion; he'd told her to get fucked. "Learn to live a little."

"You live too much, Kanellis," the tiniest of smirks crossed his face, then disappeared as he continued, "and you die."

She laced her fingers around his, intertwining them. "So let's live for the moment. Now come on. There's Moon Pies to catch."

He was incredulous. He would even ignore the fact that some Southport bitch was holding his hand.

"Did you just say _Moon Pies_?"

* * *

They emerged from the carnival, hours later, Maria satisfied with what they'd accomplished in the day's work. She'd pulled him into a sea of people again, who were all standing with their eyes on a float passing by. People were standing on them, one hand inside a sack, tossing a packaged something into the masses. Punk realized they were all chanting one thing, and that Maria had loudly joined in:

"Moon Pie! Moon Pie! Moon Pie! Moon Pie!"

One of the people standing on the float tossed a handful of them their way. His companion let out shriek as hundreds of hands flew up all at once, all of them trying to grab the objects. The majority of them were all bigger than her, and as they all leaned in at once to get the 'Moon Pie', she was squashed between them and unable to move. She noticed, however, that one was heading straight for Punk.

"Punk! Catch it, CATCH IT!"

Adrenaline coursed through his veins. Blood rushed to his head. He was caught up in the moment – determined, as one heavily-tattooed arm shot up into the air, fingers closing around the packaging. Trying not to squash it, he brought it down again; staring at the object curiously as Maria forcefully squeezed her way out of the crowd.

"You got one!" She squealed, throwing herself at him with all of her might. Maria wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes shining with delight behind her Mardi Gras mask. The corners of her mouth were turned up into a smile. "I was trying to get you one because they are really, really good, but, well… you saw what happened!" When she finally stopped talking, he looked down at her. His eyes met hers, and he realized the accidentally compromising position they were in.

"What are you doing?" As gently as possible, he untangled himself from her. They stood a distance apart from each other now. The smile never left her face, even though he was metaphorically pushing her away. "Hugging you. Friends do it."

"That's funny." He bit back a laugh. "I wasn't aware we were friends."

"You're not aware of a lot of things." She tilted her head sideways. "Come on, I'll walk you home."

For once, he had nothing to say. He furiously kicked at a stone on the ground as he began walking_. Anything to get out of here_, he surmised, _anything to get away from her_.

* * *

She kept her promise, walking him all the way up the stairs of his building to the apartment he shared with Ace. It was late, Punk knew, so he'd be home. He didn't need to bother with keys. After he'd opened the door, he jammed his foot in the crook so he'd keep it open. Then he turned and faced her.

"Nice try, Kanellis." She was still wearing that stupid fucking mask. "But you didn't prove me wrong."

There it was - that _endless smile_. Did she ever stop smiling?!

"Ssh," she raised a finger to her lips. Momentarily distracted, he noticed that her fingernails were painted a scarlet colour. "Don't say that yet. I'll see you soon Punkerdoodle."

With that, she waved, and started heading down the stairs, humming a tuneless song under her breath. He shook his head, as though his ears were water logged. That girl was eternally happy, he didn't understand it.

"Hey Punkerdoodle," a voice filled with mirth came from behind him. It was Ace. "How'd your date go?"

Punk ceased no time in punching his long-time friend right in the arm, following him into the apartment. "One," he responded as he tossed something onto their dining table, "don't you ever fucking call me that." He rummaged in his pockets, and his house keys joined the something on the table. "And two, it wasn't a fucking date. She's a disgustingly happy retard."

"Mhmmm," Ace murmured, his eyes on whatever Punk had thrown down. "What the hell is that? A _Moon Pie_?" Punk eyed the object on the table. He vaguely remembered shoving it into his pocket after their little spat, or whatever the hell you'd call it.

"Where the hell did you go? Mardi Gras?" Ace scratched the back of his head with one hand. Punk was unable to answer, slouching into the kitchen and growling at the kettle as it boiled. Laughter overcame Ace. It burbled out of him like soda did in a bottle after it had been shaken up.

"She took you to Mardi Gras? I love this girl."

"Good," his heavily-tattooed friend replied as he pulled a mug out of one of the cupboards, "Maybe you can take her off my case."

"No way man, this girl is good for you, despite what you may think."

_She will be the death of me._

"Catch!"

Punk turned around just in time to see an object flying towards him. Showing off amazing reflexes, he caught it in his hand. It was the Moon Pie.

"Go on, open it! Try it!"

He reluctantly followed his instructions, and two items fell out into his paw. They were two little graham crackers shaped into round cookies, with marshmallow filling in the center of them both. It had obviously been dipped into chocolate. At first he seemed hesitant to eat it, but seemingly realized he would have to anyway – Ace wouldn't let him live it down, or stop bothering him until he did. So he did.

And he actually liked it.

The other man stole the other one from his hand, devouring it within a few seconds. "So," he started the fun process of licking the sticky chocolate from his fingers, "what'd you think?"

Punk finished making his beverage before answering his roommate's question. He picked up his now full cup of coffee, and tentatively walked down the hall with it, disappearing into a room for a few seconds, before reappearing by the door, empty-handed.

"I think you're just like her."

Then he slammed his door shut behind him. _What a day_.

* * *

Not sure who to focus the next chapter on. Who do you guys think?


	7. Chapter 7

**Pen to Paper**

**Title:** Pen to Paper

**Rating:** PG

**Pairings:** You'll see.  
**  
Summary:** An assignment of two schools brings together some of the most unlikely people.

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I don't own the WWE or any of the characters used. Wish I did, though, that would be awesome!

* * *

_**The monument in Oakley Park, 10 am. Saturday**__._

At the same time Maria was meeting up with CM Punk to take him to Mardi Gras, Jackie was making her way to the war memorial in the middle of Oakley Park. Alex's letter had been very mysterious about their plans for the day, and she liked that. Deciding to head to their meeting place after having her morning run, she'd arrived in shorts and a tank top; hair messily tied back, a few strands falling out around her barely made-up face. She carried an iPod in her right hand – "Unskinny Bop" by Poison was absent-mindedly playing in the background as she stared up at the monument. She had the volume turned up full blast, and realized then that she was probably becoming one of those people she hated so much herself. The ones that, when you just wanted peace and quiet on buses or trains, played their music for everyone around them to hear, and annoyed the piss out of them. As she began turning the volume down, she heard a voice from over her shoulder.

"_Every time I touch you honey, you get hot_…"

Jackie turned around abruptly, and saw a grinning boy behind her. He had, she assumed, brown hair, but it had a random slice of bleached blonde in it – kind of like a skunk. A bag was hanging from his shoulder… it had to be a video camera inside of it. And the boy, well, it just had to be Alex. She giggled, and decided to go along with it, singing the next line.

"_I want to make love you, never stop_."

He extended a hand to her. She accepted it gleefully, and placed her other hand on his waist.

"_Come up for air, you push me to the floor_."

He started swaying to the music, taking her with him. Jackie shook her head at him, and swung her hips suggestively, beginning a more latin-styled dance for them to do. He followed her lead without a single word of protest and begun the fast-paced dance with her. The two moved as though they'd been friends; partners for years. Their dance moves were so fluid they could've been taking classes.

"_What's been going on in that head of yours_?"

He spun her around underneath his arm and pulled her back close. Their eyes met briefly before she copied his maneuver and forced him to do the same. Together, the two of them started crowing along – loudly - to the chorus.

"_Unskinny bop, just blows me away! Unskinny bop, bop… all night and daayyy_!"

A crowd was beginning to form around them.

"_Unskinny bop, bop, bop, bop, she just loves to play_! _Unskinny bop, nothin' more to say_…"

After a few more complicated twists and turns he had to admit he'd never, ever performed in his life, he pulled her down into a dip. Jackie was caught off-guard. Their faces were so close they were almost touching. She could feel his warm breath upon her skin; could smell the mixed scents of a male's deodorant she couldn't quite guess the name of and cigarettes; could feel his calloused hand on her bare arm; almost lost herself in his eyes, and in the heat of the moment, almost begged for him to kiss her. He broke the silence by speaking first.

"I'm Alex."

She released a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding. "Jackie."

As he let go of her, everyone around them broke into applause. They bowed.

* * *

Five minutes later, after having words with everyone who had watched their little show, and assuring a couple of them that, _no_, this wasn't some kind of a publicity stunt, they were walking down the street. He was hazardously attempting to light a cigarette, walk, and talk at the same time.

"So, tell me," he took a puff, then lazily offered it her way. She declined it. "Do you frequently break into song and dance in public settings with complete strangers?"

"Only on Saturdays," Jackie retorted. "How about you?"

"Only with pretty girls," he grinned. She felt a blush immediately heat up her cheeks. What a charmer!

Alex looked sideways at her, occasionally spewing smoke out from his mouth.

"Well, you _did_ want to get to know me." A crooked smile crossed his features. "But seriously, it's good to finally meet the girl behind the pen and paper – the one Rico is always rambling on about to all of us. To be brutally fuckin' honest, I think nearly everyone is dying to meet you after the stories he tells us all."

"Oh god," she buried her face in her hands. "Please tell me it's nothing embarrassing?"

He grinned secretively. "I ain't telling you squat."

Jackie let out a groan, but was cut off by his laughter. "Psyche," Alex chuckled to himself. "It's all good shit, I swear. Rico worships the ground you walk on, girl."

He paused for a moment, tossing the smoldering cigarette onto the ground, and crushed it under his boot. When he pulled his foot away, he admired the pattern it made, and the way the still slightly smoking ash had spread out around the object like a blanket. Artsy. Loving filming, Alex had a good eye for these kinds of things. He made a mental note about it, thinking it might be a cool thing to film one day, and looked back up at Jackie, whom was staring at him curiously, eyes wide like a doe's. She looked ridiculously cute. And then, an idea popped into his brain – it was like a lightbulb had gone off over his head in a cheesy cartoon. But first, he had to get something out of the way. When he spoke again, his tone was slightly different.

"So are you and Rico, like… a thing?"

"Oh!" Jackie looked a bit startled. "Lord no. He has a serious girlfriend."

Alex smiled. "Good."

He extended his hand to her once again, and she took it, but this time he didn't use her for a song and dance, and this time they didn't let go.

I'm not sure I like this, but I'm eager to hear what everyone else thinks of it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Pen to Paper**

**Title:** Pen to Paper

**Rating:** PG

**Pairings:** You'll see.  
**  
Summary:** An assignment of two schools brings together some of the most unlikely people.

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I don't own the WWE or any of the characters used. Wish I did, though, that would be awesome!

* * *

"Tell me again why I agreed to this, Jacks."

Amy moaned loudly, as the two girls made their way through a sea of gyrating bodies, narrowly avoiding limbs of all kinds. They were at a party, held by a couple of Westfield High boys, at their house whilst their parents were out of town.

"Because," Jackie turned around and faced her best friend, her head cocked cutely to the side, "Alex thought it would be a good idea. You know, to get to know everyone and whatnot. So don't be such a party pooper!"

The redheaded spitfire eyed the blonde carefully, her gaze running over her friend's appearance. She was dressed to impress in a very form-fitting black dress. It had a sweetheart neckline, with ribbon in the centre to tie together for maximum cleavage-enhancing effect. The dress itself wasn't just black; it was dotted with large printed-on pink roses with thorny stems. Pink sequinned shoes were on her feet. Clearly, this "Alex" was something special.

"Fine," Amy sighed, blowing wisps of her red locks flying, "but know that I'm doing this for you, and only for you, and not because I want to, okay? You _so_ owe me for this."

"Twenty-five percent off your next purchase at Hot Topic?"

Her eyes gleamed.

"Make it thirty-five, and you've got yourself a deal."

Jackie winked at her friend, then turned and continued on with the wading through the crowd. Amy saw a boy a little bit ahead of her, whose eyes lit up and entire expression changed when he saw the blonde coming towards him. He quickly made excuses to the raven-tressed girl that he was talking to, and made a beeline for Jackie, wrapping his arms tightly around her body when he reached her, enveloping her in a hug.

"Alex!"

"Jackie!"

Looking flushed; Jackie pulled away from the boy and pointed at her best friend, who was quite obviously scrutinizing him.

"This is my not-so-subtle friend, Amy."

The boy grinned widely, then stuck out his hand.

"Why, hello. I'm Alex."

Amy accepted his hand and shook it. "Amy Dumas. I've heard a lot about you."

"And yourself," he smiled. "Do you mind if I steal my dear pen pal away for a moment?"

The redhead rolled her eyes, how cheesy. "Not at all. Knock yourself out."

Alex just grinned as he took Jackie by the elbow, and led her towards a more secluded area of the house. Amy smirked to herself, turning around, and making her way towards a table in the corner of the living room. The table was covered in numerous bottles, cans and glasses of alcohol. She decided she'd help herself to something to drink if she wanted to get through this night. Jackie might be too distracted to even keep her company. Amy sneakily picked up a full bottle of Johnnie Walker, and a can of Jim Beam, not caring whom it belonged to, and fought her way through the crowd of people again. She nearly dropped both of her beverages when an elbow shot out and hit her in the ribcage, causing her to stop in her tracks.

"Hey, watch it, jackass!"

The person who'd elbowed her turned around. She had to raise an eyebrow when she saw that it was the blonde boy Jackie had quite literally run into the other day after school. He'd been dancing enthusiastically with a petite blonde wearing next-to-nothing.

"Well, well, well," he grinned. "Look what the cat dragged in. How you doin', Red?"

She tossed him a disdainful look. "Oh god, it's you. Drunk yet? I mean, it is after four o'clock."

The grin never left his face as he excused himself from the blonde, who looked quite disgruntled to see who her 'friend' was leaving her for, to follow Amy as she walked outside onto the front porch. There was a swinging sofa set out there, so she perched herself on the edge of it, placing the full bottle of alcohol next to her, before cracking open the can of Jim Beam and taking a long sip. Once content, she snuggled herself deeper in the sofa, looking over at the blonde boy under thick eyelashes.

He sat beside her, wordlessly taking the bottle of Johnnie Walker from its position on the chair. He unscrewed the lid and began chugging its contents, wiping his upper lip once he'd been satisfied with the amount he'd taken.

"The Walker and good ol' Jimmy, aye? Would've taken you for a Bacardi Breezer kinda girl."

"I'll take them if there's nothing else left… otherwise? I'm all about the hard liquor." Amy pouted, causing his expression to falter slightly.

"… was that a tattoo?"

"On my lip? Yeah."

She passed him her can of Jim Beam for a moment, using both her hands to pull down her bottom lip and show off the tattoo she'd gotten there, quite awhile ago. Just as she'd written to her oh-so friendly pen pal, it read the word PUNK – the genre of music she adored, the style of clothing she wore, and something she occasionally fashioned herself as.

"Punk…" he whispered softly, staring intently at it, before seemingly snapping out of his daze. "Got any others?"

Amy nodded, inclining her head slightly. She flipped her red locks over her face, revealing one on the nape of her neck that read 'iconoclast' in fancy font.

"It's Russian for rebel." Her muffled voice came from behind her hair. "I also have another." She flipped her hair back to where it belonged, and then pushed up her black and white striped sweater sleeve as far as it could go. "You can't really see it, because I can't really push up my sleeve much further, but it's a three-eyed dragon. It's kind of weird, but it's the most detailed of my tattoos."

"Interesting…" his voice trailed off as he took a few more sips of Johnnie Walker, an odd expression crossing his features.

"Do you have any?"

She kicked her legs out, the sudden motion causing the swinging sofa set to do just that, _swing_. It started rocking gently, occasionally letting out a creaking noise as the chair's joints adjusted to the weight and movement.

"Tatts? Nah, Red. I'm all clean."

"You know," Amy smiled to herself, "If you're going to keep calling me Red, I'm gonna have to think of a nickname for you too."

The blonde boy just shrugged absent-mindedly, continuing with his drinking.

"Blondie?"

"Just like the singer, hey?" He stroked his stubble. "I could handle that. _Call me on the line, call me, call me any anytime, call me my love, you can call me any day or night, call me!_"

The girl beside him giggled, covering her mouth cutely as she did so.

"You're a modern day Debbie Harry."

Red and Blondie both clinked their can and bottle against each other's, before leaning back into the swinging sofa set, laughing to themselves.

* * *

Hours later, the situation had been tweaked slightly. The two were back inside, having abandoned their seat on the porch, but were... _slightly_ drunk. Red had pushed her sleeves up to her elbows; a big rip had suddenly appeared in her fishnet stockings and her hair was rather tousled, but she didn't give a damn. The alcohol and the boy had had quite the effect on her, as she was now dancing confidently in the middle of a circle that had formed in the living room. She had a dozen admirers watching her, clapping in time with the music. Across from her was Blondie, laughing raucously, applauding along with the others. There was flashing lights and loud music and people and voices and laughter and whoaaa... suddenly, it all got very real for Amy, as she put a hand to her forehead in an attempt to stop the dizziness (not that it would've done anything to help her, really). Then there were two sets of arms, grabbing at her own, trying to steady her. She looked to her left - Blondie - and then her right - Jackie. Of course.

"Ames?"

Her best friend's soft voice pierced through her mind.

"Red? You okay?"

Blondie.

"I'll take her," Suddenly Jackie's tone of voice had changed from sweet to angry. "You've done enough tonight."

"What's that supposed to mean?" So had his.

"Take a look at her, why don't you?"

"Big deal, she's drunk." He rolled his piercing blue eyes sarcastically. "She's having fun for once."

"For once? You say that like she never does."

He shrugged casually, in a 'don't-carish' kind of way. Jackie took the opportunity to knock his hands off of Amy's arm, and used all of her strength to help position the redhead so that she was beside her, one arm slung over her shoulder. For maximum support, she wrapped one of her own arms around her waist. The two of them began the slow walk out of the house, to where Jackie's car was sitting, waiting, outside. Alex, ever the opportunist, realised it would be quite difficult for Jackie to open the car and get Amy into it without setting her down and having to pick her back up again, starting shoving people aside in his attempt to get outside. Only, Blondie stopped him in his tracks.

"Could you give Red this?"

He handed him a piece of paper. Alex looked down at it. Hastily scribbled on a torn page from a tiny notebook were the words,

_Red,  
Call me.  
- Blondie_

These words were followed by the digits of his phone number. Alex wordlessly gave him the thumbs up sign, then continued on outside to help Jackie. Once they'd gotten Amy settled in the passenger seat, the two of them stood there in the cold, staring over at her. She was sitting there, pretending that the dashboard was a drum and that her hand were the drumsticks. Whatever song she was attempting to 'play', all it came out sounding like were a bunch of bangs and crashes. Truly charming.

"Will she be okay?" he asked quietly. Jackie looked up at his earnest face, and smiled softly.

"I think so. I'll message you in the morning about it, okay?"

Alex nodded. Jackie stood on tip-toe to reach up and peck his cheek lightly.

"Thanks for inviting us. Talk to you soon, I'm sure."

One wink, the rumble of an engine and a strangled yell from Amy ("byeee!") later, they were gone. Just like that.


End file.
